Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A64746
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Olor Iscanus. A collection of some select poems, and translations, / formerly written by Mr. Henry Vaughan silurist. ; Published by a friend.
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Vaughan, Henry, 1622-1695.
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1651
(1651)
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Wing V123; ESTC R6212
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34,854
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81
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lye and thus what e're Is absent and at Rome I fancy here But when then câ—m'st I blot the Anie Scrowle And give thee full possession of my soule Thee absent I embrace thee only voice And night and day holy a Husbands Joyes Nay of thy name so oft I mention make That I am thought distracted for thy sake When my tir'd Spirits faile and my sick heart Drawes in that fire which actuates each part If any say th' art come I force my pain And hope to see thee gives me life again Thus I for thee whilst thou perhaps more blest Careless of me doest breath all peace and rest Which yet I think not for Deare Soule too well Know I thy griefe since my first woes befell But if strict heav'n my stock of dayes hath spun And with my life my errour wil be gone How easie then O Caesar wer 't for thee To pardon one that now doth cease to be That I might yeeld my native aire this breath And banish not my ashes after death Would thou hadst either spar'd me untill dead Or with my bloud redeem'd my absent head Thou shouldst have had both freely but O! thou Wouldst have me live to dye an Exile now And must I then from Rome so far meet death And double by the place my losse of breath Nor in my last of houres on my own bed In the sad Conflict rest my dying head Nor my soules Whispers the last pledge of life Mix with the tears and kisses of a wife My last words none must treasure none will rise And with a teare seal up my vanquish'd Eyes Without these Rites I dye distrest in all The splendid sorrowes of a Funerall Unpittied and unmourn'd for my sad head In a strange Land goes friendless to the dead When thou hear'st this O how thy faithfull soule Will sink whilst griefe doth ev'ry part controule How often wilt thou look this way and Crie O where is 't yonder that my love doth lye Yet spare these tears and mourn not now for me Long since dear heart have I been dead to thee Thank then I dyed when Thee and Rome I lost That death to me more griefe then this hath Cost Now if thou canst but thou canst not best wise Rejoyce my Cares are ended with my life At least yeeld not to sorrowes frequent use Should make these miseries to thee no newes And here I wish my Soul died with my breath And that no part of me were free from death For if it be Immortall and outlives The body as Phythagoras believes Betwixt these Sarmates ghosts a Roman I Shall wander vext to all Eternitie But thou for after death I shall be free Fetch home these bones and what is left of me A few Flowres give them with some Balme and lay Them in some Suburb grave hard by the way And to Informe posterity who 's there This sad Inscription let my marble weare Here lyes the loft-soul'd Lecturer of Love Whose envy'd wit did his own ruine prove But thou who e'r thou beest that passing by Lendst to this sudden stone a bastie Eye If e'r thou knew'st of Love the sweet disease Grudge not to say May Ovid rest in peace This for my tombe but in my books they 'l see More strong and lasting Monuments of mee Which I believe though fatall will afford An Endless name unto their ruin'd Lord And now thus gone It rests for love of me Thou shewst some sorrow to my memory Thy Funerall offrings to my ashes beare With Wreathes of Cypresse bath'd in many a teare Though nothing there but dust of me remain Yet shall that Dust perceive thy pious pain But I have done and my tyr'd sickly head Though I would fain write more desires the bed Take then this word perhaps my last to tell Which though I want I wish it thee Fare-well Ausonii Cupido Edyl. 6. IN those blest fields of Everlasting aire Where to a Myrtle-grove the soules repaire Of deceas'd Lovers the sad thoughtfull ghosts Of Injur'd Ladyes meet where each accosts The other with a sigh whose very breath Would break a heart and kind Soules love in death A thick wood clouds their walks where day scarce peeps And on each hand Cypresse and Poppey sleepes The drowsie Rivers slumber and Springs there Blab not but softly melt into a teare A sickly dull aire fans them which can have When most in force scarce breath to build a wave On either bank through the still shades appear A Scene of pensive flowres whose bosomes wear Drops of a Lever's bloud the Emblem'd truths Of deep despair and Love-slain Kings and Youths The Hyacinth and self-enamour'd Boy Narcissus flourish there with Venus Joy The spruce Adonis and that Prince whose flowre Hath sorrow languag'd on him to this houre All sad with love they hang their heads and grieve As if their passions in each lease did live And here alas these soft-soul'd Ladies stray And oh too late treason in love betray Her blasted birth sad Semile repeats And with her tears would quench the thund'rers heats Then shakes her bosome as if fir'd again And fears another lightnings flaming train The lovely Pocris here bleeds sighes and swounds Then wakes and kisses him that gave her wounds Sad Hero holds a torch forth and doth light Her lost Leander through the waves and night Her Boateman desp'rate Sapho still admires And nothing but the Sea can quench her fires Distracted Phoedïa with a restless Eye Her disdain'd Letters reads then casts them by Rare faithfull Thysbe sequestred from these A silent unseen sorrow doth best please For her Loves sake and last good-night poor she Walks in the shadow of a Mulberrie Neer her young Canace with Dido sits A lovely Couple but of desp'rate wits Both dy'd alike both pierc'd their tender brests This with her Fathers Sword that with their Guests Within the thickest textures of the Grove Diana in her Silver-beams doth rove Her Crown of stars the piâ—chiâ— aire Invades And with a faint light gilds the silent shades Whilst her sad thoughts fixt on her sleepie I ever To Latmos-hill and his retirements move her A thousand more through the wide darksome wood Feast on their cares the Maudlin-Lovers food For griefe and absence doe but Edge desire And Death is fuell to a Lovers fire To see these Trophies of his wanton bow Cupid comes in and all in triumph now Rash unadvised Boy disperseth round The sleepie Mists his Wings and quiver wound With noise the quiet aire This sudden stirre Betrayes his godship and as we from far A clouded sickly Moon observe so they Through the false Mists his Ecclyps'd torch betray A hot pursute thy make and though with care And a slow wing he softly stems the aire Yet they as subtill now as he surround His silenc'd course and with the thick night bound Surprize the Wag. As in a dream we strive To voyce our thoughts vainly would revive Our Entraunc'd tongues but can not speech
of haire-cloth whip or Vow But is there no redemption must there be No other penance but of liberty Why two months hence if thou continue thus Thy memory will scarce remain with us The Drawers have forgot thee and exclaim They have not seen thee here since Charles his raign Or if they mention thee like some old man That at each word inserts Sir as I can Remember So the Cyph'rers puzzle mee With a dark cloudie character of thee That certs I fear thou wilt be lost and wee Must ask the Fathers e'r 't be long for thee Come leave this sullen state and let not Wine And precious Witt lye dead for want of thine Shall the dull Market-land-lord with his Rout Of sneaking Tenants durtily swill out This harmlesse liquor shall they knock and beat For Sack only to talk of Rye and wheat O let not such prepost'rous tipling be In our Metropolis may I ne'r see Such Tavern-sacrilege nor load a line To weep the Rapes and Tragedy of wine Here lives that Chimick quick fire which betrayes Fresh Spirits to the bloud and warms our layes I have reserv'd 'gainst thy approach a Cup That were thy Muse stark dead shall raise her up And teach her yet more Charming words and skill Than ever Coelia Chloris Astrophil Or any of the Thredbare names Inspir'd Poore riming lovers with a Mistris sir'd Come then I and while the slow Isicle hangs At the stiffe thatch and Winters frosty pangs Benumme the year blith as of old let us 'Midst noise and War of Peace and mirth discusse This portion thou wort born for why should wee Vex at the times ridiculous miserie An age that thus hath fool'd it selfe and will Spite of thy teeth and mine persist so still Let 's sit then at this fire and while wee steal A Revell in the Town let others seal Purchase or Cheat and who can let them pay Till those black deeds bring on the dark some day Innocent spenders wee a better use Shall wear out our short Lease and leave th' obtuse Rout to their husks They and their bags at best Have cares in earnest wee care for a Iest Monsieur Gombauld I'Ave read thy Souls fair night-peece and have seen Th' Amours and Courtship of the silint Queen Her stoln descents to Earth and what did move her To Juggle first with Heav'n then with a Lover With Latmos loweer rescue and alas To find her out a Hue and Crie in Brasse Thy Journall of deep Mysteries and sad Nocturnall Pilgrimage with thy dreams clad In fancies darker than thy Cave Thy Glosse Of sleepie draughts and as thy soul did passe In her calm voyage what discourse she heard Of Spirits what dark Groves and ill-shap'd guard Ismena lead thee through with thy proud flight O'r Periardes and deep musing night Neere fair Eurotas banks what solemn green The neighbour shades weare and what forms are seen In their large Bowers with that sad path and seat Which none but light-heeld Nymphs and Fairies heat Their solitary life and how exempt From Common frailtie the severe contempt They have of Man their priviledge to live A Tree or Fountain and in that Reprieve What ages they consume with the sad Vale Of Diophania and the mournfull tale Or th' bleeding vocall Myrtle These and more Thy richer thoughts we are upon the score To thy rare fancy for nor doest thou fall From thy first Majesty or ought at all Betray Consumption thy full vigorous Bayes Wear the same green and scorn the lene decayes Of stile or matter Just so have I known Some Chrystal spring that from the neighbour down Deriv'd her birth in gentle murmurs steal To their next Vale and proudly there reveal Her streams in lowder accents adding still More noise and waters to her Channell till At last swoln with Increase she glides along The Lawnes and Meadows in a wanton throng Of frothy billows and in one great name Swallows the tributary brooks drown'd fame Nor are they meere Inventions for we In th' same peece find scatter'd Philosophie And hidden disperst truths that folded lye In the dark shades of deep Allegorie So neatly weav'd like Arras they descrie Fables with Truth Fancy with Historie So that thou hast in this thy curious mould Cast that commended mixture wish'd of old Which shall these Contemplations render far Lesse mutable and lasting as their star And while there is a People or a Sunne Endymions storie with the Moon shall runne An Elegie on the death of Mr. R.W. slain in the late unfortunate differences at Routon Heath neer Chester 1645. I Am Confirm'd and so much wing is given To my wild thoughts that they dare strike at heav'n A full years griefe I struggled with and stood Still on my sandy hopes uncertain good So loth was I to yeeld to all those fears I still oppos'd thee and denyed my tears But thou art gone and the untimely losse Like that one day hath made all others Crosse Have you seen on some Rivers flowrie brow A well-built Elme or stately Cedar grow Whose Curled tops gilt with the Morning-ray Becken'd the Sun and whisperd to the day When unexpected from the angry North A fatall sullen whirle-wind sallies forth And with a full-mouth'd blast rends from the ground The Shady twins which rushing scatter round Their sighing leafes whilst overborn with strength Their trembling heads bow to a prostrate length So forc'd fell he So Immaturely Death Stifled his able heart and active breath The world scarce knew him yet his early Soule Had but new-broke her day and rather stole A sight than gave one as if su'bt'ly she Would learn our stock but hide his treasurie His years should time lay both his wings and glasse Unto his charge could not be summ'd alas To a full score Though in so short a span His riper thoughts had purchas'd more of man Than all those worthless livers which yet quick Have quite outgone their own Arithmetick He seiz'd perfections and without a dull And mossie gray possess'd a solid skull No Crooked knowledge neither nor did he Wear the friends name for Ends and policie And then lay'd by As those lost Youths of th' stage Who only flourish'd for the Play 's short age And then retir'd like Iewels in each part He wore his friends But chiefly at his heart Nor was it only in this he did excell His equall valour could as much as well He knew no fear but of his God yet durst No injurie nor as some have â—e'r pur'st The sweat and tears of others yet would be More forward in a royall gallantrie Than all those vast pretenders which of late Swell'd in the ruines of their King and State He weav'd not Self-ends and the Publick good Into one piece nor with the peoples bloud Fill'd his own veins In all the doubtfull way Conscience and Honour rul'd him O that day When like the Fathers in the Fire and Cloud I mist thy face I might in ev'ry Crowd See Armes like